Can’t decide where to go next,
The words are stuck to my fingers.
Can’t force them from my throat,
Can’t put make them appear on the screen.
So many ideas,
All demanding my attention.
They’re ripping me apart,
I’m torn between which to satisfy first.
I can’t leave them like soldiers dying on the battlefield.
I have to help them all,
Or the whole army will fall.
There are too many.
Who to go to first?
Oh, it hurts,
I can’t even put down a word.
Can’t sort them out,
Can’t figure out which of the soldiers are mine and which are the enemy’s.
God, help me please.
This is just one big bloody mess.
My mind can’t mop up any more,
My hands are straining under the weight of torn words.
Okay, that’s it.
I can’t stand the sight anymore,
I have to step away from the keyboard.
I’ll return to the battlefield in a few hours,
Maybe the ideas will be sorted and relaxed by the time I return.
© Amelia Jacobson 2017